


League of Fluff

by RileySteele



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, Shorts, Silly nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileySteele/pseuds/RileySteele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of (sometimes incredibly short) drabbles about my own headcanons. Mostly yordle-centric and pointless. Ratings and word lengths vary. May contain fanservice, pure crack, and butts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teemo/Veigar- Purr

Teemo purred.  
This was not common knowledge, or, as far as anyone seemed to know, common for yordles in general. But then, Teemo was not a common creature, by any means. A terror on the battlefield, an assassin with the ability to switch off a piece of his mind and soul in order to do what must be done, one with a highly unstable mentality and, in the mornings, incredibly affectionate, cuddly, purring tendencies.  
Veigar's protests were no more than unsure, embarrassed mutterings. Somehow they only served to make the purrs louder.


	2. Heimerdinger and Ziggs- Infernal

"Must you make such an infernal racket, day in and day out? Must you really!?"  
Ziggs looked up from his work, his fur blown back by a recent explosion. He looked calm and content despite the shrapnel sticking out of his protective apron. Heimerdinger, on the other hand, seemed very upset for some reason, standing there barefoot in his cute blue airplane pajamas and (appropriately large) sleeping cap.  
"Did I bother ya, Ding-ding?"  
"Do not call me by some ridiculous alias. I'm your co-worker, not your pet!"  
"Sorry, Heimy," he laughed rather uproariously at the look on his colleague's face. "It's funny cause it sounds like--"  
"Just keep it down!" For a yordle so opposed to excess noise, Heimerdinger had slammed the door with a good bit of force.  
"Tchh. Stuffy old furball."


	3. Yordles and Fizz- GNAR CUPCAKE!

At the break of noon, his normal early hour, Fizz rose from his slumber. Gracefully, like a dizzy fish trying to flail across land. Pretty accurate, actually.

On Sundays, the league crew took a break, which meant he would have to get his breakfast on his own. Hopefully someone had left something uneaten. Leftovers, food of the gods.

He expected the kitchen to be deserted until the lunch crowd would come along, but of course, it was not. The nice, orderly kitchen table had been taken over by some sort of cake monster, as far as he could tell, and there were several yordles fleeing the scene.

"Come on, Teemo, you can't stay here." Tristana was pulling Teemo along, forcefully, by the back of his shirt. He, like most of them, was covered in frosting and flour dust.

"But they're soooo good!" he sobbed, flailing in the general direction of the center of chaos.

"This was so much science," Heimerdinger could be heard muttering, as Ziggs dragged him away. "Baking is... Science for hungry people... Urghhh..."

Fizz simply watched, still half asleep, as most of them wandered out. There was a huge pile of lopsided, badly-frosted cupcakes in the middle of the room, which did seem to wake him up a little. "Breakfast, cool!"  
As soon as he reached out for the cupcake, though--

"GNAR CUPCAKE!" A ball of fur and frosting leapt out from the center of the pile, tackling him down in to the food. Smushed cupcakes everywhere. All sorts of sprinkles and frosting colors. Fizz picked up a piece of mushed dessert, looking at it sadly for a moment.

"Gnar, you... You squished them... You'll pay for this!" Without any ceremony, he shoved the cupcake into Gnar's face.

"RAAAGH!" the little missing link screamed, falling back like he'd been struck by gunfire. "Grrrr... SHARG!"

When Nami found them, they were collapsed on the floor in the middle of the war zone, groaning from stomachaches.

"Many casualties were seen today," Fizz told her, looking like a Fizz-cake by now.

"Gnar gada," Gnar added.

Nami simply turned and swam away.


	4. Teemo/Veigar- Mistake (M-rated)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of not really graphic yordle smut based on personal introspection.

There's something about the forbidden that makes our pulses race, our hearts soar, and our bodies fill with heat.  
Lips meshing when they should be spitting toxic words, fingers grasping at each other instead of curling into fists, a swirling vortex pulling two souls, both broken beyond repair, ever closer together. And it's a bitter clash, all the same, all teeth and claws and fury, bodies trembling and failing to fight it off, to fight to get themselves away, just "away" though the thought itself is lost.  
It happens then and there on the floor, right after a match, adrenaline from the battle nothing compared to this. Base and primal with no room for hesitation, though the first shaking kisses are matched with gasps and quivers, they soon melt into continuous and demanding pressure. The master of evil pins his prey below him, metal claw digging in harshly, leaving marks, clothes are shed and then they're moving together, grinding and growling and demanding more from each other with every passing moment. The first breach is paired with a shout of pure need from the scout, eyes open wide for once against the painful levels of heat, hips twitching in a vague attempt at moving away or getting closer or anything to alleviate it, his own body not sure how to react. But the being above him understands better than he does, and moves in deeper, harder, relentlessly. And it's wrong, how the scout's eyes roll back and he moans, loud and deep in his chest, and it's wrong how the master of evil can only groan and give him more, and take more from him, and not care who might hear their sounds, the filthy beautiful sounds of two bodies joining in a dance of heat. When it comes to a close, they hold tight to each other, and a mistake is made... Just before the crescendo, they look into each other's eyes, yellow meeting blue, and when the euphoria hits their gazes, for a moment, soften.  
It is the first time, but it will not be the last.


	5. Restless Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karthus thinks too much while Thresh is particularly clingy.

For as long as Karthus had known him, the chain warden had liked luxurious things. His room at the league was filled with opulent things, artwork, plush carpeting, and an overly large, ornate bed that served no real purpose for spectres did not require sleep. The lich lord assumed that Thresh only liked fancy things now because, in life, he had often had to go without.

So were his thoughts as he stared up at the ceiling, lying on his back on the soft, silky sheets of the bed. Beside him, Thresh's aura glowed a slight, shy red discoloring the normal green.

'I wish to sleep with you,' had been Thresh's request, so here they were, trying and failing to doze off. While not necessary, napping on occassion felt nice, was a way to relieve stress, and, according to Thresh, was an act of trust.

"Is this awkward?" the warden asked, turning his head slightly to his partner.

"I do not feel awkward," Karthus answered. "I also do not feel tired."

Thresh huffed softly, turning and extending an arm, resting it cautiously over Karthus's chest. The lich wasn't entirely positive, but it seemed like he was attempting to cuddle. He felt a distant sting of a feeling, wondering for a moment if he was neglecting the spectre lately. Karthus had never been particularly needy for physical contact, but Thresh seemed to crave it. Carefully, the lich reached over, drawing Thresh closer to him, having the other rest his head on his chest. Thresh seemed to relax a little at the acceptance, his light arm curling around Karthus in a caring manner.

Karthus was all too aware that he was out of his element right now. While Thresh had interacted with others in the realm of the living, Karthus's obsession with death and the dying had set him apart. The touches and the feelings of affection hadn't been present... Now he hardly knew what to do with them, relying on cues from the other.

Not for the first time, he began to wonder what it was Thresh saw in him. Power, maybe? Had he been strong enough to attract the spectre? It was the only conclusion he could come to, not particularly confident in his looks or personality. His arms squeezed tighter around Thresh, trying to push away the thoughts, the memories from souls screaming in terror at his face, or Mordekaiser calling him "bland and unoriginal." The ruler of the isles had often been blunt, something that was often necessary but seldom appreciated. If it was power that had attracted the unlikely affections of his dear friend, he would have to come to terms with that.

At any rate, he had Thresh, if only for this moment, and that would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((This was also featured on my newest blog, arcanehourglass on tumblr <3))


	6. Ekko/Ezreal- One More Night (semi-NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this while I was in the midst of a manic episode. So yeah. Super tiny drabble thing.

A lot of relationships in Ezreal's world had worked due to circumstances. Lux's arranged marriage, Vi and Caitlyn's partnership, even his own brief fling with Jayce were due to circumstance, as it should be. There was nothing incredibly romantic, in his opinion, about being coerced into being with someone, as he'd felt as one of Piltover's Finest.

So when he found himself falling deep for the boy with the stench of Zaun still on his skin, it was like electricity. Something sparked in his heart and wouldn't let go, no matter how often they fought, no matter how much scorn they pretended to have, all coming to a boiling point one night after a few too many drinks. Ekko was gone in the morning and Ezreal found himself aching for the time mage in some way he would never understand. Yet one night led to another, and more yet, a sick sort of addiction.  
He only wished he would get some sort of a goodbye instead of the quiet feeling of an empty room, the hint of regret heavy in the air.

Maybe some day he'd stop pretending not to wake up every time Ekko managed to 'sneak' out. Maybe some day he would call him on his shit.

Until then, 'just one more night' would have to suffice.


End file.
